


Three Stories About Car Rides (For Purim) Part 1/3:  Girls' Day Out

by sheepishlynew



Category: Chuck (TV), Numb3rs, Psych
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-03-19
Updated: 2008-03-20
Packaged: 2017-10-17 08:02:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/174653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sheepishlynew/pseuds/sheepishlynew
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Chief and O'Hara take a road trip.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to my beta, who asked to remain anonymous, but who still deserves thanks.

_**Three Stories About Car Rides Part 1/3: Girls' Day Out (Psych)**_  
 **Fandom:** Psych  
 **Title:** Three Stories About Car Rides (For Purim) Part 1/3: Girls' Day Out  
 **Author:** [](http://sheepishlynew.livejournal.com/profile)[**sheepishlynew**](http://sheepishlynew.livejournal.com/)  
 **Written for:** [](http://irena-adler.livejournal.com/profile)[**irena_adler**](http://irena-adler.livejournal.com/)  
 **Rating:** PG  
 **Disclaimer:** This work is based on the characters and settings of others, including Steve Franks. I did not originate these characters, and make no profit from them.  
 **Notes:** Thanks to my beta, who asked to remain anonymous, but who still deserves thanks.  


 **Summary:** The Chief and O'Hara take a road trip.

O'Hara sat and Lassiter paced as the Chief hung up the phone and read the message aloud: "The dark empire's evil vizier will be hanged on his own gallows."

"Who even uses the word 'vizier' anyway?" Lassiter complained.

"According to the FBI in Los Angeles, the terrorist group 'Silver Dawn' does, when they're referring to our Vice President," the Chief replied, "and you may recall that several days ago we spotted the leader of Silver Dawn here in Santa Barbara. So, the FBI down there wants to have a meeting with us, to find out what we know about this situation."

Lassiter was unfazed. "It doesn't even make sense," he insisted. Santa Barbara is a sunlit city, not a dark empire. There haven't been hangings in Santa Barbara since—"

"Did I hear 'road trip to L.A.'"? Shawn poked his head in the office. "I call shotgun!"

"—at _least_ 1897 or 1898. And the word "vizier" applies to executive officers of the Ottoman Empire, not American vice presidents." Lassiter trailed off.

"No, Mr. Spencer, there is no 'road trip,'" the Chief insisted. "Deputy O'Hara and I will be driving to Los Angeles this aft—"

But he was long gone. The Chief dismissed the others with instructions to send a fax down to the FBI containing everything the Department had on Silver Dawn, and she began steeling herself for the afternoon's meeting. She fully expected Mr. Spencer to poke his head in again, with some epiphany centering on "golden sunset," or "stainless awakening," which . . . would have been rather comforting, actually. The Department's knowledge of Silver Dawn was a bit thin, and Mr. Spencer always seemed to come through with useful information, even if his methods were a bit . . . unorthodox. Of course, it was difficult to explain to her friends. The Chief was the one who always _knew_ that someone was pushing the Ouija board cup during those late-night circles at summer camp, and teased her college roommate for getting a book on palmistry out of the library. But then came Shawn, with his goofy t-shirts and his bad timing, turning all that pragmatism on its head. She almost wished he was coming with her to Los Angeles. But he wasn't. He was . . . skipping backwards past her office, saying something to Mr. Guster about how "it would be a good opportunity to check out the Long Beach Aquarium." The Chief chuckled to herself. In any case, the ride would be good to get some quality time with O'Hara.

In the car, they mostly discussed the case, until they reached the end of the file O'Hara had brought, and the end of the tank of gas, at about the same time. O'Hara had the bright idea of buying an issue of _Cosmopolitan_. "It'll be fun!" She announced. "Girls' day out!"

"Yes, indeed, before we arrive at our in-depth mani-pedi with the Federal Bureau of Investigation, which we hope will lead to improved fashion in the war on terror," muttered the Chief.

Juliet didn't hear her. "Look at the cover! It has 15 positions that will make him scream!"

"So does the FBI."

As they got back in the car, Juliet opened it up to the quiz. "Are you intimidating?" She read aloud. "Do other women shrink in your presence, or roll right over you? Discover if you're at all daunting to deal with."

"Look, O'Hara," the Chief said firmly. "I like you. I'm glad you're a part of this department. You do excellent police work, you have a positive attitude, and to be frank, I'm not sure that many other people could put up with Lassiter as well as you do. I'm glad to have an opportunity to work with you on this case, and I'm glad I'll be having more opportunities like it in the future. But do you think this is entirely approp—"

Just then, the Chief's cell phone rang. She listened for a few seconds, and then pulled the car over to listen more closely. After a few minutes, she closed the phone and pulled back onto the road. "Well, that's an interesting development," she said, turning to O'Hara. "Apparently, some suspected Silver Dawn operatives have been spotted outside a Los Angeles Buy More, matching the descriptions we faxed down. The FBI guy actually said 'thank you.'" She smiled as she hit the gas.

O'Hara opened up the magazine. "So how about that quiz?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just another ordinary day in the Buy More parking lot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to my beta, who asked to remain anonymous, but who still deserves thanks.

_**Three Stories About Car Rides Part 2/3: Just Fit In (Chuck)**_  
 **Fandom:** Chuck  
 **Title:** Three Stories About Car Rides (For Purim) Part 2/3: Just Fit In  
 **Author:** [](http://sheepishlynew.livejournal.com/profile)[**sheepishlynew**](http://sheepishlynew.livejournal.com/)  
 **Written for:** [](http://irena-adler.livejournal.com/profile)[**irena_adler**](http://irena-adler.livejournal.com/)  
 **Rating:** PG  
 **Disclaimer:** This work is based on the characters and settings of others, including Josh Schwartz. I did not originate these characters, and make no profit from them.  
 **Notes:** Thanks to my beta, who asked to remain anonymous, but who still deserves thanks.

 **Summary:** Just another ordinary day in the Buy More parking lot.

Aaron opened the van's passenger door to let Derek in. "So, 'dja send the note?"

"Yep, 'The dark empire's evil vizier will be hanged on his own gallows.' The wheels are in motion. And now we need supplies. Surveillance. Ammo. Lunch."

Aaron started up the van and headed for the Buy More. "Check. Check. And check. 'His own gallows'? What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means that when Darth Cheney gives that speech at the Port of Long Beach tomorrow, we're going to shoot him dead. With _birdshot_."

The guys in the back all laughed. But it was more than a joke—it was the culmination of months of planning. This was what Silver Dawn was all about: the end of persecution from Big Oil. It was worth going to jail for. Heck, it was worth dying for, if it worked.

There were eight of them, from all over the country, and they'd been camped out in that rickety biodiesel van for a quite a while now, driving down the coast from Oregon, plotting the triumph of the people over the tyranny of the corporate oligarchy. Derek—not his real name; he said it was a play on "oil derrick"—was in charge. The rest of them had tried aliases, but in the end, they knew they were all going down if it worked, and real names were easier, as long as they kept them among themselves. Derek said it made more sense just to fit in. Be inconspicuous. So they hung out in the van like a bunch of eco-friendly frat boys on a road trip, or what they imagined frat boys must have been like, and bided their time, and planned.

When they got to the Buy More mall, the plan went like this. Steve (code name: Steverino) would pick up lunch—everyone agreed on hot dogs, since the hot dog place probably had some fry oil they could bring back to Derek's friends for the van—and Aaron would go into the Buy More to pick up several pairs of binoculars.

Aaron walked into the Buy More and headed nonchalantly for the section marked "Cameras and Camcorders," and then the aisle marked "binoculars and telescopes." It took him to the back of the store, past the big Nerd Herd counter. There was a tall guy standing there in a Nerd Herd getup, who smiled at him uncomfortably. Aaron smiled back. After a little browsing, he picked out six pairs of binoculars and started walking toward the checkout.

The tall guy was staring at him.

Aaron remembered Derek's rule about fitting in. "Hey, man," he said, "I have a question about these binoculars."

The tall guy—Aaron was close enough to see his nametag now: it said "Chuck"—responded. "Bushnell eight by thirty digital binoculars with built in 2.1 megapixel digital camera. Pretty good choice. 30-second movie camera capability with instant replay, 1000 yard field of view. One, two, . . . six pairs, huh?" He paused for a moment. "Got some big . . . something . . . planned . . . or something?"

Aaron laughed nervously. "Me and the guys—my fraternity brothers—are going to a . . . sporting event together tomorrow. So we need lots of pairs." Aaron realized he should have thought about the cover story ahead of time. This was harder than he thought. "What I wanted to know was whether . . ." he could feel the light bulb turn on over his head, "they are compatible with glasses."

"Aaah, hold on a minute," Chuck smiled, and called over a clean-cut looking Buy More employee in a green shirt named Casey. The two of them conferred for a moment, and Casey headed off toward the home audio area. Chuck checked something on the computer. "Yes, it says here that all Bushnell binoculars are compatible with glasses, so you should be good to go. Enjoy the game!"

By the time Aaron got back out to the van, Steve was regaling the group with his description of the hottest hot dog chick he had ever seen in his entire life. She had given him two gallons of used fry oil for the van, and he had suggested she should go protest Cheney's speech down in Long Beach. Tomorrow was Saturday, Steve had said, so she should be off work, right?

She had said she might see him down there.


	3. Three Stories About Car Rides (For Purim) Part 3/3:  Long Beach

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team needs some help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to my beta, who asked to remain anonymous, but who still deserves thanks.

_**Three Stories About Car Rides Part 3/3: Long Beach (Numb3rs)**_  
 **Fandom:** Numb3rs  
 **Title:** Three Stories About Car Rides (For Purim) Part 3/3: Long Beach  
 **Author:** [](http://sheepishlynew.livejournal.com/profile)[**sheepishlynew**](http://sheepishlynew.livejournal.com/)  
 **Written for:** [](http://irena-adler.livejournal.com/profile)[**irena_adler**](http://irena-adler.livejournal.com/)  
 **Rating:** PG  
 **Disclaimer:** This work is based on the characters and settings of others, including Nicolas Falacci and Cheryl Heuton. I did not originate these characters, and make no profit from them.  
 **Notes:** Thanks to my beta, who asked to remain anonymous, but who still deserves thanks.

 **Summary:** The team needs some help.

  
Once the call came in from Homeland Security, the bullpen buzzed with activity. They expected at least 6 target individuals to be at the Vice President's speech in Long Beach the next day. They'd learned that Silver Dawn would be driving a large gray van and had certain surveillance capabilities. They had tentative IDs on three of the guys.

They still needed quite a bit of information, which Homeland Security didn't have. How many more guys there might be. IDs on the other guys. Their plan of attack. Possible escape routes.

And all this on a Friday afternoon. Don knew this was nothing new, but he still greeted Charlie with an apology and a clap on the back. "Hey, man, sorry to kill your Friday night. But if the bad guys can't wait, we can't either, you know?"

Charlie headed for the conference room with a nod and a smile, and swung his laptop toward the rest of the team, waiting inside. "Nowhere I'd rather be, man."

For the next several hours, the team did research, interviewed witnesses, and ran profiles to figure out the missing details about Silver Dawn, with no luck. Even with the additional data points from the Santa Barbara police, they weren't coming up with anything new. And why should they? They'd been working on this for weeks. Charlie designed the optimum route for the Vice President's motorcade to take, and then helped them with the more in-depth work of trying to decipher how the terrorists might attack.

"His own gallows." Don wrote it up on the whiteboard. The following day's podium itself was safe, so it wasn't a reference to a physical space, and in any event, it was clearly a reference to the book of Esther, so it was probably metaphorical. Were they accusing the Vice President of masterminding some sort of ethnic cleansing? What state punishment regimes had he been involved in? Charlie began cross-referencing van registrations with individuals who had relatives in Guantanamo Bay.

At about two in the morning, it was clear they weren't getting anywhere, and Don sent the team home. They'd go to Long Beach in waves, with SWAT getting there early in the morning, and most of the team getting there mid-day. Don explained that he would get there a little later, after finishing with a morning obligation. Then he crashed on the couch in the conference room.

1:30 Saturday, like clockwork, Don hopped in the passenger seat next to Colby. Colby gave him the rundown. "Everything's in place. SWAT's doing most of the heavy lifting. Vice President's scheduled to move in an hour. No guys with binoculars anywhere around here yet. So we're just waiting for the other shoe to drop."

They waited.

Finally, Colby broke the silence. "What was up with you this morning? You had some thing to go to?"

Don nodded. "Cousin's Bat Mitzvah."

"Mmm. How come you never talk about your religion?" Colby asked.

"How come you never talk about yours?" Don replied.

"Charlie talks about being Jewish sometimes," Colby said.

Don noticed that was not really an answer. "I'm not Charlie." He looked over at Colby. "Growing up, you know . . ." He trailed off. "There are a lot more Jewish mathematicians than baseball players."

"Sandy Koufax?"

"Everybody says him." Don paused. "Anyway, I've never paid much attention to the Jewish stuff. It's more about family than anything else."

Just then, the radio crackled, and David announced that the Vice President's motorcade was on its way. They got out of the car, ready to surround the podium, eyes open for grey vans and guys with binoculars.

The motorcade stopped, and the Vice President climbed the podium. And Don saw a guy with binoculars, two blocks away. He ran for the guy. He caught the guy. And as he began to cuff the guy, he heard yelling coming from the podium area behind him.

Don turned to see that a Secret Service agent was on top of the Vice President, and a guy in a jean jacket was pointing a shotgun directly at Colby. They were too far away.

The rest of the team was too far away. It was too far to shoot.

 _Nothing to do now but pray_ , thought Don, and he did.

And a stunning blonde woman on a bicycle came barreling into the man with the shotgun. The man fell backward, hitting his head on a blue subcompact car. A stylish young black man got out of the car, looking alarmed and glaring at his sandy-haired passenger, as Colby cuffed the shotgun-wielding terrorist.

"I . . . I've seen her before!" Exclaimed the handcuffed kid next to Don. "The chick on the bike! She . . .yesterday!"

 _More about family than anything else_ , thought Don, as he watched Colby read the young man his rights. _And that's good enough for me._


End file.
